


Waking Up

by spuffyduds



Category: due South
Genre: 1000-3000 words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Friendship moving toward more.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Friendship moving toward more.

When Ray starts to wake up the first thing he notices is the hospital smell. And that's never good, so he doesn't open his eyes, he's always afraid to open his eyes when this kinda thing happens. Because it's always possible that when he looks down at himself parts will be missing.

He squinches his eyes tight shut and concentrates on fingers and toes, and yeah, they all seem to be there. Which means everything on the way to them probably is too. Yay.

But, Jesus, his head hurts. It feels _huge_, and his teeth hurt and his sinuses hurt and fuck, his _earlobes_ hurt.

And he can't remember what happened. Car wreck? A bad bust, with him and--

"Fuck!" he yells, and sits up, and his eyes fly open, and he's yelling, "Is Fraser okay?!?"

And then it hits him what a really really bad plan sitting up was, and he throws up into a bowl. Which is being held under his chin by a big square hand. Which belongs to Fraser.

"I'm fine, Ray," Fraser says. "I'm right here. Go back to sleep."

******************************************************************

When Ray starts to wake up the first thing he notices is that he has the worst hangover ever. No, no, wait, he didn't get drunk, he got _hit_. Something happened in a warehouse, he's pretty sure. Man, what _is_ it about warehouses? The cops should just write them off as, like, no-man's-land. Sorry, citizen, you go in a fucking warehouse, you're on your own with the perps. Me and my partner are gonna go get pancakes.

Fuck, _Fraser_.

And then he can hear somebody breathing near the bed. And he can't open his eyes, he can't, because when he does it's gonna be Welsh in the chair, Welsh with his I-have-bad-news-detective face.

Ray takes a deep breath, sits up hard, forcing his eyes open, yelling, "Is Fraser okay?"

"I'm fine, Ray," Fraser says. And Ray feels a little sick, but it goes away, and then he looks down and blinks.

"Why you trying to put my head in a bowl, Fraser?"

"Never mind, Ray. Go back to sleep."

 

**********************************************************************

When Ray starts to wake up the first thing he notices is that his head kinda hurts. And then he's remembering scattered flashes of a warehouse, and big guys with clubs, and a tiny woman with a tiny--flute?--and Fraser was--

Fraser. He's pretty sure Fraser's okay, he's pretty sure he's in the chair by the bed, but he keeps his eyes closed and says, softly, "Is Fraser--"

"I'm FINE, Ray," and Fraser's almost _snarling_.

Ray opens his eyes. "Well, you don't have to be pissy about it," he says, and Fraser starts _laughing_ at him.

 

***********************************************************************

When Fraser bundles him out of the wheelchair (which he totally didn't need but the nurses insisted on) and into the car, Ray leans back in the seat and closes his eyes, because if he has to watch Fraser drive he'll end up in the hospital again. But he can _hear_ that they're going about seventeen miles an hour.

"So, when do I get to drive again?"

"You have to get clearance to do much of anything. But they thought probably in a few days. IF, and they were insistent on this point, you REST until then. Thoroughly."

"Yeah, okay, I'll be good. So, am I ever gonna remember what happened?"

"Apparently the events of the last week may remain--spotty."

"So tell me about it."

"It was an extremely complicated case, Ray, and perhaps we should wait until your brain returns to, ah, normal."

"I _heard_ that 'ah.'"

"Sorry."

"Okay, short version."

"We discovered an Irish group illegally importing fake Waterford crystal, and--"

"An Irish group? Like, the Irish mob?"

"No, Ray, actually a ceilidh group gone horribly wrong."

"A kay--what?"

"A traditional dance band."

"A traditional dance band. With big fuckin' clubs."

"Shillelaghs."

"What are shillelaghs?"

"Big fuckin' clubs, Ray."

Ray finds himself sighing and thumbing an eyebrow. God, it's _catching_. "Do not fuck with my head, Fraser," he says. "My head is pre-fucked-with right now, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Fraser says. "It's just--" he sounds a little funky, and Ray opens his eyes, gives him a look, but he looks pretty normal. "I'm just very glad you're going to be all right. It's difficult not to--tease you, a little."

"Okay," Ray says, grins at him. "Don't let it happen again. Okay, so Irish band with clubs. But I was dreaming the teeny lady with the teeny flute, right?"

"Piccolo. And no, she was the boss of the outfit."

"Her? She was what, five-one?"

"Brilliant strategist, black belt, by all accounts an astonishing musician. And infamous for leaving a piccolo IN anyone who crosses her."

"You mean, like, _stabbing_?"

"No."

"Ooh," Ray says, thinks about that. "Yeah, she gets to be the boss."

"Well, she's safely behind bars now. But it's only because our backup arrived just after you went down."

When they get to his apartment building he only wobbles a little on the stairs. But he's pretty happy to sit down on the couch and let Fraser bring him some coffee and toast.

And then Fraser has to sort of tuck him up in a blanket and bring pillows and _plump_ them, and Ray rolls his eyes and says, "Thanks, mom." And then feels kinda bad, because he's probably been no fun to deal with, and says, "So, I guess I was pretty annoying?"

"By my count, Ray, you asked if I was okay one hundred and twenty-seven times before you started retaining information again."

"Geez. And it was probably more than that, huh? I mean, I probably did it when you weren't there, too."

Fraser blushes.

"What, you were there the whole _time_?"

"Well, the nurses brought me food from the cafeteria. I did try to go eat once, early on, when you seemed to be sleeping pretty peacefully. And when I got back you were screaming about, about me being okay, and throwing punches, and three nurses were trying to strap you down to the bed."

"Oh shit," Ray says. "Oh, yeah, I remember that now." He thinks about it for a minute. "You know, three nurses strapping you to a bed isn't nearly as much fun as it sounds like it'd be."

"I'm sorry that was a disappointment to you."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I was so annoying."

"It wasn't really annoying. It was, um, complimentary, I suppose." Fraser shifts around on the couch, starts looking out the window instead of at Ray. "There was some confusion," he says, "with the staff, who seemed to think that we were partners on an other than professional level."

"Oh." Ray says. "Geez. Hope that wasn't too, you know, embarrassing."

"No," Fraser says. "Actually, it was intriguing how reluctant I found myself to dissuade them from this misapprehension."

Ray takes a minute to work through the vocabulary there, says "Oh," again. Fraser's still looking out the window. But he's getting even redder.

"So," Ray says. "You're supposed to hang around here in case I relapse or something?"

"Yes. If that's not--uncomfortable." He turns toward Ray, but he's still not _looking_ at him.

"No," Ray says. "It's good." And Fraser looks up, and smiles.

 

\--END--

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Waking Up [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011402) by [DesireeArmfeldtPodfic (DesireeArmfeldt)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldtPodfic)




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